"When you're ready, Miss Keller."
She stared into his eyes. She saw the gold again, a deep burning fire, plunging into her soul. He was amused by her. She saw it as his lips twisted slightly into a sardonic smile.
The spin!she reminded herself. She could wrench away from him....
She spun into a pirouette, paused, turning right, and then left,then flew up the stairs. One, two, three, four, five...
She felt his hand on her arm, gripping her, stopping her, spinning her around again. She executed the kick without thinking,then prayed that he would be there to catch her....
He was. His right arm locked around her waist as she fell against the rock hardness of his torso; his left arm slipped beneath her, bending her knees, and she was floating as he began to carry her up the stairs.
Floating... and staring into his eyes again. Feeling their heat...and that of his powerful arms about her...
"Great!" Tony approved from the foot of the stairs."Rough, but great. Bryn, the kick was a little slow.
Lee, look angrier, less tense. You're not going to drop her. Now let's try it with the music."
The first try might have been "great," but the second was a disaster. Bryn tripped on the second step.
And, to her horror, she repeated the fumble once, and then again.
It was Condor, she thought with defensive and heated anger. It wasall his fault for that half smile of vast amusement he gave her each time he saw the resentment in her eyes....
"Miss Keller, just what is the problem?" he inquired politely, but she could still see the laughter. "Have you had coffee yet? Tony, how could you let this young lady go to work without coffee?"
She wanted to protest; she wanted to tell him that all she wanted was to get the rehearsal over. But before she could say anything, she found herself being ushered into a drawing room opposite the ballroom and staircase.
And she was completely alone with him.
Bryn stood silently as he poured a cup of coffee from a drip brewer.
"Sugar?"
"Black, please."
He handed her the cup and poured one for himself. He sipped from it, staring at her so pointedly that she wished she could disappear into the floorboards.
"Have I ever met you before, Miss Keller?"
"No."
"I was quite sure I hadn't. I can't imagine forgetting you. But if we've never met, I certainly can't see how I might have offended you in any way. Why do you dislike me?" "I...I don't," Bryn protested. "But you do. Why?"
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Inadvertently she moistened her lips. It would be futile to lie. He wasn't asking her if she disliked him, he was asking her why she did. And in the secluded drawing room, he suddenly seemed ridiculously dangerous to her.Taut, trim and powerful.Able to move soundlessly with the grace of a great cat. She surreptitiously scanned his hard features. The jet hair, short and feathered in front, longer in back, dead straight. She imagined him with a bandanna across his forehead again.His shirt off, a loincloth in place of jeans. Moving stealthily through the dark, attacking with a bloodcurdling war cry keening from his full lips...
He wouldn't need the costume. In jeans and knit shirt, the fluid agility of his body was still evident. His dry, mocking smiles added to her certainty that he was more than healthy-he was exceptionally virile, a sexual and sensual man.Dangerous? Yes, very. He was being cordial now, testing her.Perhaps giving her a chance. But she knew as he stared at her with that look that was as hard as flint that things were done his way. He wouldn't tolerate dissension in the ranks of his employees. She would dance to his tune--or not at all.
Anger made an abrupt appearance, welling up from deep inside her. He wanted things on the line. Well, so didshe .
"To be quite truthful, Mr. Condor, I don't quite know why I dislike you myself. But I won't let it interfere with my work--here, or when we do your promo shots."
He laughed, easily, and his features didn't seemso hard as a grin, which displayed a nice set of even white teeth, softened them.
"Fine, Miss Keller, I'll trust in your professionalism.Just as I'll trust my own."
"What does that mean?" Bryn queried quickly.
"It means, MissKeller, that I may know you better than you know yourself. I believe you think that I mentally undress you each time I look at you."
"Perhaps," Bryn replied coolly, hoping that her cheeks weren't turning a telltale crimson.
"Ummm.And perhaps you're worried that I chose you from a crowd because I'd like to see more of you. Or drag you into bed."
"I don't presume--"